Kidnapped Hearts (28 page)

“Ye-ep, that’s what I thought. Not so
funny now.”

“I don’t get poison ivy,” she retorted as
she walked behind a tree and one-handedly lowered her shorts.

“I’ve seen everything. I’ve even tasted
it all. Why are you hiding behind the tree?” he chuckled.

She slid her underwear up, then tugged on
her shorts. They didn’t budge.

He joined her, and slid her shorts up,
then buttoned and zipped them.

“Just ‘cause. I can’t drop trou anywhere
like you.”

He lifted his hands, palms out, and
looked around. “There’s no one here.”

In the distance, a stick snapped followed
by the shuffling of leaves. Pamela’s eyes bugged out.

Jake ducked behind a tree and gestured
for her to stay behind him.

“Do you think it’s Steve?” she whispered.

Not again. He put his finger over his
lips. “Shh.” He pointed to the junior size bag of tricks on the log next to
them.

She handed it to him, along with the gun
pouch, and picked up her life jacket. She slid her strong arm in and stopped.

Jake removed the sling and helped her
into it. The hair on his neck stood on end.

Not
good.

He pulled out the gun that Steve left
him. Cautiously, he shuffled backwards. Pamela mimicked his movements without
question.

Back on the other side of the island, he
saw the tracks in the sand from where they’d slid Steve’s Jet Ski into the
water.
Didn’t I clear them away
afterwards?
Pamela’s devilish smirk flashed in his mind. No, he hadn’t
thought beyond his dick once they had the island to themselves.
Dumb shit.

They walked to where they had left the
other Jet Ski, hidden under a covering of bushes. It was MIA.
WTF!
He raced to the water. His eyes
landed on another path in the sand made by a ski, then into the water. Their
ride floated upside down a hundred yards off shore.

He grimaced, and he felt Pamela’s hand
tighten on his arm. If he were alone, he would secure the ski and confront
whoever was here. With Pamela next to him, he couldn’t take the chance. As he
saw it, he had one choice—swim to the ski and get Pamela to safety. He stuck
the gun back in the bag, tugged the duffle’s strap around his neck and
shoulder, and entered the water without making a sound.

Pamela followed, but she hadn’t been
trained to be quiet. The thick muck on the bay floor grabbed at her feet,
making it impossible for her not to be heard.

She bit her lip and looked up at him, her
eyes saying
oh shit
. Despite her
disheveled appearance, his torn shirt and too baggy shorts, she was a vision.
He shoved down his physical reaction and demonstrated how to walk quietly.
Together they moved through the water. As soon as it hit his knee, he lowered
himself, taking Pamela with him. Jake tapped his shoulder, motioning for her to
climb on. With her good hand, she slid onto his back. His strokes were fast and
efficient. Twenty yards out, he heard voices and dipped beneath the water. He
hoped she had a strong lung capacity. They emerged on the far side of the ski
just as Pamela’s hand tightened on his shoulder. She gulped for breath,
coughing and sputtering.

“Are you okay?”

Sucking in more air, the cough slowly
quieted, and she nodded, relaxing in her life jacket. A few feet away, he
studied the Jet Ski’s quandary. He could rock it back and forth until he could
flip it over, but it’d make too much noise and bring them unwanted attention.

No solution came to mind. He’d have to
leave her behind the ski. As much as he couldn’t stand the thought of her being
alone, he needed to get rid of the evil on the island. “I have to go back. I
can’t right the Jet Ski by myself without being noticed.”

“You’re leaving me out here?” Her
breathing had evened out a second ago. Now, she was rapidly taking in air.

“You have a life preserver on. You won’t
have to do anything to stay afloat. Hang on to the side of the Jet Ski.”

She nodded, but he knew she was scared to
her core.

He kissed her cheek, then submerged
beneath the water. Every protective muscle tightened in his body. Leaving her
with the use of one arm and no means of escape ate at his center. He had a job
to do. Once again, he shoved away his emotions and brought out the fighter.

Minutes later, his eyes peeked above the
water. The island looked deserted. Jake exited the water, barely making a
splash, and slinked to a tree. Waves began to crash on shore, and leaves
rustled in the wind. The earlier tranquil island was beginning to rumble. He
sprang out from his protective cover and raced to another tree ten yards away.

Spotting nothing, he moved to the next
tree. No sign of life. How could anyone be there undetected? Thirty minutes
later, after he had searched the entire island, he had made a complete circle.
The only evidence he’d found was footprints in the sand. One sunk lower than
the other two, so he concluded that man was taller or heavier than his friends.
Whoever had been here had left the island. But how? He had scanned the water as
he circled the island. No watercrafts were near for a possible escape. No
sounds of any life. The wildlife noises he heard earlier had even waned.
 

The sound of a motor followed by a
high-pitched squeal spun him on his heels. He rushed to a spot where he could
see the Jet Ski shielding Pamela.

His body went weak. He locked his legs,
preventing his knees from buckling. The Jet Ski had been righted, Pamela on the
seat with a piece of duct tape stretched across her mouth. A man was plastered
to her back as they sped away in the opposite direction.

Son
of a bitch!
The duffle he had wrapped around his
neck and shoulder flew into the water. How in the hell had he not heard them?

Jake wiped his hand down his face as
Pamela vanished around the bend. Another Jet Ski followed, carrying two men.

With no way off the island and no form of
communication, as he’d lost his cell sometime back, he was shit out of luck.
“Motherfucker, son of a bitch, damn it all to hell!”

Reeling himself in, he forced himself to
relax. He had no choice. He would swim after them. He could swim the two miles
to the building Sanjar had had his eye on when Jake, A.K.A.
The Warrior
, had worked for him. Time
was the factor. He couldn’t swim there fast enough.

Storming through the water, he snatched
the bag and headed west. His thoughts kept up with his aggressive strokes. No
notes, no threats, they outright took her. What were their plans? To beat her
into telling them where the bonds were or to use her to lure him to them, so
they could avenge their leader’s death? Whatever the reason, her life was in
peril.

The sound of a motor halted him two
hundred yards out. He ducked beneath the water until only his eyes were above
the surface. Two Jet Skis, one he recognized as theirs, and another, paused. A
man on each ski slid off the backs of them and waded through the knee-deep
water toward the island.

“
The
Warrior
is a dead muther fucker,” a rough voice growled.

“Yo, he’s there!” the bastard shouted,
pointing at Jake.

The two Jet Skis drove straight for him.

Jake sunk beneath the water.

Chapter
Twenty-Three

The murkiness of the water didn’t aid in
Jake’s swim. It hadn’t hindered it either. He used it as shelter from the Black
Scorpions as he swam beneath the surface toward the shore. A vibration pulsed
through the water followed by several small surges darting around him.

Bullets.

Shit!

He swam faster. The bullets stopped
popping around him.

He tried to touch the floor of the bay.
The shore had to be close. Moving a few feet, his foot touched his target. He
waited for the inevitable vibration to come near.

Through the muffling of the water, he
felt rather than watched the movement in the water encroached then slowly
dissipate. A lone Jet Ski had stopped. Shuffling up the slope until the bottom
of the Jet Ski came into view, he shoved off the sandy bay floor, springing his
body out of the water. Taking a fortified gulp of air, he wrapped his arm
around the Black Scorpion’s neck, jerking him off the Ski as they dropped back
in the water.

The Scorpion didn’t have the lung
capacity to fight under the water.

One down, who knew how many to go. First,
he had to find Pamela.

Shoving against the bay floor once again,
he lunged out of the water, climbed onto the seat, then revved the engine.

Rat-a-tat-tat
.
Rat-a-tat-tat
.

Jake dove into the water as bullets
pinged into the ski. He swam to what he felt was a safe distance and slowly
eased his head above water. A single man sat with his back to him with a
machine gun in his lap, searching the water. The engine had been killed.
This will be too easy.
Under the water
again, he grabbed a handful of sand mixed with a few broken shells, and rose
just behind the man who still searched the empty waters. Jake tossed the
handful to the left of the Jet Ski. The man’s head twisted as he pulled the gun
to the side.

Jake grabbed his foot and jerked. The
machine gun flew from the gangster’s hands, plopping into the water.

The Scorpion held firm and kicked out his
foot, landing on Jake’s jaw. The steel-toe boot forced pain through his head.
Shaking it off, he thrust forward and grasped the thug’s shirt.

Not
so easy after all
.

A firm tug and they flew backwards.
Jake’s knee lurched upward, hammering the man in the balls as they fell into
the water.

The toad released Jake’s shirt and
grabbed his nuts. Jake’s head flew forward, a head butt to the forehead. The
perp’s eyes crossed as he slumped into the water.

Two down.

Jake climbed on the ski and twisted the
key. Nothing. He tried again.

“Fuck!” The needle on the gas gauge
pointed to
Empty
. Sliding a foot over
the side, he glided into the water. He had no choice but to deal with the men
on the island before he could search for Pamela.

Twenty yards out, Jake emerged above the
water and slithered to the shoreline. Once there, he inched toward the tree
line. He had one weapon and only a few bullets. He’d have to make an arsenal
from nature. From his run around the island earlier, he spotted thick vines. It
was a good place to start.

A few minutes later, he was tugging on a
creeper with the smell of rotten leaves engulfing him. Several feet tore out of
the ground. He cut it off with his switchblade, slid it over his shoulder, then
started on the next. This one, longer. Then, he went in search of sticks heavy
and long enough to be used as spears. After finding several, he whittled one
end, making a sharp point that could penetrate skin.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins, and
a sheen of sweat covered him. These men had threatened Pamela for the last
time. He was aware of two on the island, but Scorpions rarely did things in
pairs. More would be coming for him. He hoped he’d have back up soon.
Where the hell was Steve?

Night was falling, making it harder for
the Black Scorpions to see him lurking about. In turn, he wouldn’t be able to
see them either. From his experience, the Black Scorpion’s usual MO was to watch
their victims’ eyes as they fell to their death. Therefore, he didn’t have to
worry about a sneak attack.

Spotting blackberry vines, he smeared the
juice across his face, neck, arms, and hands to camouflage his complexion. Then
he put some aside for later.

Back at the center of the island, he
untied the vine and removed the spears from his back. He tied an end of the
longer vine five and half feet high, stretched it to the next tree and tied the
other end. Next, he collected fist-size rocks and piled them ten yards away
from the rope and the spears. The Scorpions had machine guns, so he’d have to
be sneaky enough that they wouldn’t be able to tell how many reinforcements
were there.

In the mini bag of tricks, he pulled out
the gun, and checked it.
Goddamnit
.
The bag wasn’t waterproof like Steve’s duffle. Water gushed out of the chamber,
making the gun of no use to him. He stuffed it back in his bag and went forward
with his plan, gunless.

Next, he gathered supplies for making a
fire to bring the bastards to him, and dumped them in the sand on the beach.
The twigs, dried leaves, and pine needles slowly started to burn. Adding more
bark, he blew on the soft glow, and the flame took hold.

Watching from the shelter of the trees,
he crouched near the rock pile and spears, then waited. Birds sung and crickets
chirped as his mind worked a hundred miles a minute. He’d needed to get to
Pamela ASAP. All kinds of horrible thoughts raced around in his head as to what
they did with her and where they took her.